Lyanna takes in the scent of home, the chilly air caresses her cheeks and the earth dips underneath her feet, welcoming. Eddard leads down the path, his touch soothing. This is the only thing she is grateful for. The only thing she lets herself be grateful for. If Rhaegar Targaryen wants her, then he'll have to take her by the custom of her people. And at the same time it is so much more binding to her to swear loyalty before her gods. His gods mean nothing to her after all. The North bows to the old gods and no others. The carved faces, with ruby eyes and stern faces.
Her brother was right when he'd told her that it fell to her to bring a measure peace. Brandon's widow, Ashara of House Dayne, has helped her into the dress in the morning. They are not close, Ashara and she, they never have been. Lyanna has always considered Ashara a stranger, where Eddard has welcomed the woman with open arms. But today is different; today Ashara has taken Lyanna into her arms and they both cried. Lyanna for her fate, Ashara she does not know for what. And for a moment they are sisters.
The Dragon King waits for her in front of the ancient weirwood tree. The branches are gnarled; they twine with one another, the stark white skin bleeding crimson leaves. Those haunting red eyes are all encompassing, or so it seems to Lyanna who has grown under the watchful stare. Her throat is suddenly dry, and for a brief moment panic sets in. What if she cannot do this? What if she cannot swear loyalty and obedience to this man whom she doesn't know any more than he her? The leaves dance in the wind, and she moves closer to her intended place. Once she reaches Rhaegar's left side, Lyanna dares to look at him. He stares back openly, unconcerned by who may witness and what they say. Without further ado they are joined for life.
"I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband, bound to you until the end of our days." His voice is deep and solemn and Lyanna trembles, but not from the cold. His hand has found hers as he made his declaration. In a way she is glad his vow holds no promises of love. As Lyanna is not made of stone, she thinks that love would be able to melt her. Yet she wants to keep loathing these people who have taken everything, even her fate, out of her hands.
Likewise, she makes her own promise to him. "I receive you as mine, so that you become my husband and I your wife, bound to you until the end of our days." And by this she means that it is to his words she will listen and with him that she would remain.
And so, in a manner simple that hides so many complications, Lyanna is married to Rhaegar. And still she doesn't love him. Violet eyes search her face and quick fingers loose the knot holding her cloak. The gray garment falls into Ashara's arms. Lyanna is given a new one. The pitch-black and the red dragon and a furred collar. She is tempted to smile.
Then the songs start. People have always liked making merry. Lyanna does not begrudge them that, but neither does she join them in their happiness. For her this day is one of losses. So she sits at the table, close to her husband. This is the first time she's seen him smile. It is strange, for it makes him more human than she'd thought him to be.
Mayhap being his Queen won't be such a trial, she thinks. True, she might never love him, and she might never even grow to like him, yet she will have to live with him and be the other of his children. And perhaps that will be enough for her. There are those who have less.
"Why did you not wed your sister?" she asks him when they alone in his chambers. Lyanna cannot bring herself to think of them as theirs. Her rooms not that far away. "Is that not your custom?" It is a rude question, but Lyanna does not even flinch when his gaze rests on her, dark and strange.
Any other man might have struck her for the impertinence. Rhaegar simply leans back against the wall. "Would you hear confessions of undying love from me, my Lady?" Strange enough, his voice is not mocking. "Even if they were untrue, you would wish to hear them?"
"Keep your affection, my King. I have no need of it. Why did you choose me?" How does his mind work? Lyanna sits on the bed's edge, wary. He doesn't approach her.
"For peace," he states calmly. "I would have my men takes wives for this purpose. Yet if I shy away from this duty, they would recoil too. I am setting an example of sorts."
It sounds so logical, devoid of emotions. Lyanna breathes a sigh of relief. She makes to stand and watches him come closer. No protest leaves her mouth when he turns her around gently and unlaces her dress. She has no words to give him when they slip under the covers together or when his skin touches hers. There is only a moment of pain, accompanies by a sharp sound and a few drops of blood.
When he is done, Lyanna makes sure that she is well covered and turns her back to him. He doesn't stop her; doesn't so much as make a sound. Lyanna feels tears gathering in her eyes and bites her lips against the sobs. She feels empty. She feels cheated. She feels abandoned. Even she doesn't quite know what it is she feels. What did she think would happen? That he would fall in love with her just like this, out of the blue? Those are things a silly girl would believe. And still, it burns; his indifference wounds her more than she thought it would.